


Lost Time

by CallToMuster



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm a horrible person, I'm so sorry, Long-Term Memory Loss, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallToMuster/pseuds/CallToMuster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil wakes up again and again, but he seems to be starting at the very same point. </p><p>{Post Avengers, non fix-it.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stepantrofimovic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepantrofimovic/gifts).



> Apparently there's a movie that has a premise sort of like this, which I SWEAR did not know about until the end. I've never seen it and only know the bare bones about. Promise.
> 
> Gifted to, of course, the amazingly wonderful stepantrofimovic! They've given me so many great things and I always try to return the favor. :)

 

  * **1 month, 3 weeks, and 5 days after.**



 

 

“Good morning, Agent Coulson.” JARVIS’s voice flooded the room, and Phil’s eyes fluttered open.

 

“JARVIS?” He croaked. What was he doing in Stark Tower? Had Stark gotten him drunk? Was Loki’s attack all a dream? Phil intended to get up to answer these questions, but when he tried, a sharp spark of pain went through him. His chest felt like it was on fire. Mission aborted, then.

 

“Stay still, Agent Coulson. Agent Barton will be in in just a moment.”

 

Phil took the time to examine his surroundings, as any agent worth their salt would. He was lying in what seemed to be a hospital bed, albeit an extremely nice one. Stark’s doing? From what Phil could see in the rest of the room, Stark had had a hand in the interior decorating. Who else would come up with a red and gold color scheme like that? The curtains were open, so Phil could look out the window and see the damage done to New York City. It really wasn’t a dream, then. So how did he end up here…?

 

“Hey, Phil, you’re awake.” Clint Barton strode through the gleaming oak door and Phil sagged in relief. His husband was there, and there was no trace of steely, uniform blue clouding his eyes.

 

“What’s going on, Clint?” Clint sat down in a nice-looking chair by Phil’s bedside that seemed to be there for that express purpose.

 

“What do you remember?” He asked.

 

“THe Helicarrier was falling, you were under Loki’s thrall, the Hulk was loose, Captain America and Iron Man were arguing, Loki was going to drop Thor…” Phil trailed off.

 

“What about after that?” Clint’s keen eyes sharpened.

 

“After Loki stabbed me?” He clarified, and Clint nodded. “Nothing, except waking up this morning, obviously.”

 

Clint seemed unsurprised but disappointed somehow. His face was suspiciously blank - too blank. He was hiding something. “Alright. You rest up, Phil, I’ll be back soon.”

 

Phil’s eyes fluttered close on their own accord. As he drifted away, he recognized the soft murmur of Natasha’s voice but not her words. Clint was still close enough though, and Phil heard him say, “No, nothing. I - He doesn’t remember yesterday, Tasha, or the day before or -” His voice broke off and Phil, in his sleep-addled state, was confused. He would’ve remembered all of those days, he was sure. Phil must’ve heard them wrong, or maybe they were talking about someone else. Before he could dwell on it for too long, he slipped into unconsciousness.

 

 

  * ****2 weeks and 1 day before.****



 

 

Phil opened his eyes instantly, and a couple seconds later, his alarm clock went off. Six o'clock on the dot. Time to start his day. Phil threw off the sleep from his mind like he did his comforter, quickly and without hesitation. After a quick three-mile run and five minute shower, Phil dressed in one of his usual suits, efficient as always. He stepped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, knotting his tie, to find Clint there dishing up breakfast - fresh fruit over Greek yogurt.

 

Phil sat down and scooped up some strawberries on his spoon, then popped them into his mouth. They burst in his mouth, a bright pop of sweetness. Clint laughed at him and grinned into his bowl. He reached over the table and wiped some juice from the edges of Phil’s mouth. It quickly turned into a kiss.

 

And Phil thought to himself, _Nothing can change this._

 

 

  * ****5 years, 4 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days after.****



 

 

A loud bang like someone dropped a pan jolted Phil awake. He felt his chest - a scar but no pain. He quickly assessed the rest of his body. Nothing seemed to be wrong. The noise continued. Phil looked to his left to find Clint asleep still. Well. Phil wouldn’t want to deny Clint sleep, he knew how much the archer valued his sleep. Phil went to investigate, but not before grabbing the gun he always kept stashed under his pillow.

 

He walked slowly yet steadily as to not tip off the intruder that he was there. With a click, the safety was disengaged.

 

“My spidey-senses are tingling…” came a low mutter from around the corner of the hallway Phil was currently in. It made him pause, but only for a second. Weirder phrases had been uttered by villains before.

 

Still, no reason to trust him. So Phil whirled around the corner and aimed the gun at the boy's face. He looked young, maybe 20 or so, and extremely surprised to see Phil. He was wearing a red and blue bodysuit with a spider on it. Only his head and neck wasn’t covered.

 

“Hey, Mr. Coulson.” The boy said sheepishly. “Um, I was trying to get something to eat? Because I can’t go to my house like this and the Avengers Tower was closer and I just thought I’d take a quick little look at the inside of your fridge and-”

 

“Do I know you?” Phil interrupts. He kept his gun aimed at the boy, who didn’t seem to be much bothered by it.

 

“Oh yeah, right! Uh, okay, let me try to explain this thing here. Soooooooo, basically you don’t remember anything? Or at least, I think that’s what happened.” He shrugged. “I’m Spider-Man, by the way.”

 

“Well “Spider-Man”, you’re gonna have to do a little better job at explaining yourself, or-”

 

Clint chose that moment to walk in, right in the middle of Phil’s line of sight. “Whoah!” He exclaimed, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. “Phil, it’s alright! Peter, what are you doing here at this hour?”

 

“Um, food?” Peter’s tone made it sound like a question, though it obviously wasn’t. Phil lowered the gun, but didn’t turn off the safety.

 

Clint sighed. “Okay, grab whatever you want out of the fridge.”

 

Peter whooped and opened the refrigerator. “You’re the best, Mr. Barton!”

 

As the boy grabbed the fixings to make at least a couple sandwiches, Clint turned to Phil with infinite patience on his face. “Sorry. This must be so confusing, yeah?”

 

Phil could only nod.

 

“Don’t worry,” Clint smiled not unkindly and began explaining.

 

 

  * ****10 years, 11 months, 1 week, and 0 days before.****



 

 

Such a simple act, yet it meant so much. Phil mused as he held the life insurance papers in his hand. He twirled the fountain pen in his other hand, relished the smooth. cold feeling. His eyes were focused on the paperwork, mind deciphering the legalese. Satisfied, Phil scrawled his signature on the bottom with a flourish. Barton’s was already there.

 

Now the two would be partners in law (or as much as they could be at that time) as well as in heart.

 

 

  * ****7 years, 2 months, and 4 days after.****



 

 

Phil opened his eyes to find Tony Stark’s staring at him.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Phil swore, extremely confused.

 

“You know, in the seven years or so since the incident happened, I’ve never once seen you wake up. It’s weird.” Tony commented, eyes still locked on Phil’s own inches away. Phil could see small signs of aging on the man’s face, some streaks of gray, some lines around his eyes. What had happened?

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Phil repeated.

 

“Ah, yes.” Tony sprung up as if he’d suddenly recalled something he needed to do urgently. “What do you remember?”

 

“The Helicarrier. Loki was attacking with Clint under his thrall. You and the others were arguing. Loki’d trapped Thor, so I went after him. He stabbed me. I’ll say it again. What is going on and where are we?” Phil demanded.

 

He took another glance around the room. They seemed to be in some sort of cell, as if they’d been captured or something. The walls were damp and smelled of mildew. The bars in the cage were close together, but Phil could see an EMP across the hallway from them. So, no JARVIS or any other technology. He inspected Tony. The man didn’t seem to be too beat up, but then again, he didn’t know how long the two of them had been here.

 

“Phil, I’m going to be blunt here. It’s been seven years, two months, and four days since Loki stabbed you. Since then, you’ve had literally no long-term memory storage. I mean, you remember what happened before Loki, but nothing of the seven years after.” Tony’s eyes were full of uncharacteristic kindness.

 

“No, that can’t be right.” Phil’s head was spinning.

 

“Okay, what did we do yesterday?” Tony questioned.

 

Phil opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out so he closed it.

 

“Alright, I’ll tell you. You and Clint woke up, probably had this same spiel given to you, then you joined us for our Avengers team meeting. You and Natasha went out for lunch and I decided to take you to my tailor’s for a suit fitting when some thugs grabbed us. They knocked us out, and I woke up first this morning.”Tony stopped talking and the world seemed strangely silent as Phil took this all in. Thankfully, he’d always been the adaptable and resilient type.

 

“What are we doing to get out of here?”

 

Tony shrugged. “Well, I’d guess the rest of the Avengers are already on their way, but if anyone opens that cell door we grab ‘em.”

 

Phil nodded rather faintly. True to his word, a couple hours later the sound of explosions and screams filled the air. He smiled to himself and pressed his body against the bars. Not long after that Natasha Romanoff approached them at a run. She quickly scanned their bodies for injuries, first Coulson then Stark. Her shoulders sank in relief and her hand touched the comm in her ear.

 

“They’re fine, guys. Getting them out now.”

 

Phil couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he could guess what was being said. Natasha warned them to stand back, and they complied. A minor explosion occurred and the cell door swung open. Phil stepped over the threshold eagerly.

 

Clint Barton sprinted up to the two of them out of breath. Inwardly, Phil was surprised. He must’ve been running _fast_ to be like that; Clint was in extremely good shape.

 

“Phil! Thank god you’re alright!” He smiled, relieved, then paused. “Wait. Tony, did you do the whole spiel?”

 

“A much better Tony Stark edition, but yes, I did the spiel.” Tony bragged.

 

Phil rolled his eyes. Apparently some things - like Tony Stark’s arrogance - never changed.

 

 

  * ****5 years, 4 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days before.****



 

 

“Cheese, do you know why you’re here?” Nick Fury leaned over his desk and stared at Phil with his good eye.

 

“No, sir.” Phil was standing there in his favorite suit, hands clasped behind his back. Truly, he had no idea why he was there. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. He hadn’t, right?

 

“You’re being promoted, Cheese.” Nick said those words with glee.

 

Phil was confused. “Sir, I thought Level 6 was the highest level there was?”

 

“Welcome to Level Seven.”

 

 

  * ****4 years, 8 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days after.****



 

 

Phil awoke easily. Feeling returned to his body like honey coming out of a jar - slowly at first, then all at once. He was lying in a bed, smooth and soft and light. Phil rolled over and Clint was next to him, still asleep. He lay there for a second, mapping Clint’s face. He seemed peaceful, the creases by his eyes that were present in the day absent in this moment.

 

It was one of the weirdest situations Phil had ever been in, and he’d faced down gods.

 

What was going on? At that moment, Clint woke up. He yawned and stretched out, eyes landing on Phil after a moment and his expression changed into something resembling understanding.

 

“You’re safe, I’m safe,” He sounded like he was reciting something. “We won the war with Loki.”

 

Phil relaxed, lying back against the bed. “Why am I here?”

 

Again, Clint sounded like he was reading from a prompter. “The staff that Loki stabbed you with affected your brain. According to Tony and Bruce - Stark and Dr. Banner - your long-term memory (and this is their words) ‘looks like someone drove a truck through it.’ ”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Clint licked his lips in preparation for the answer. “It means that you…” He broke off and took a deep breath. “It means that you can’t retain memories for more than a day, sometimes less. But when you go to sleep, you forget everything.”

 

Phil blinked. “Everything?”

 

“Well,” Clint shrugged. “You remember all the stuff from before the Loki… incident.”  


“So…” Phil’s head was swirling. “We talked yesterday? And the day before? And -”

 

“And the day before that, and on and on and on. Phil, Loki happened four years, eight months, two weeks, and three days ago.” Clint was infinitely patient. Phil appreciated it.

 

“I - no offense Clint, but how do I know you aren’t lying?”

 

Clint smiled at that. “JARVIS?” The flat-screen TV on the wall lit up with footage from the day before speeded up. Phil watched as he woke up in the same bed, traveled throughout the Tower, and eventually went to sleep in the very bed he lay in now. It was strange - he felt no connection to the man he watched onscreen, felt no sudden rush of realization. It was like a movie. Impersonal. A feeling of extreme and unease pooled in Phil’s stomach.

 

 

  * ****1 year, 1 month, 1 week, and 6 days before.****



 

 

“It’s Stark.” Phil growled into the phone. Clint, on the other side of the connection, just continued laughing at him. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

 

“Oh god,” Clint hiccuped. “What’d he do now?”

 

“What _didn’t_ he do is the question, the man is so infuriating-”

 

“Phil,” Clint calmed down a little. “Don’t you find it a little funny that he’s the only one that really gets under your skin?”

 

“There’s nothing funny about it!” Phil snarled. Clint dissolved into giggles again.

 

 

  * ****22 years, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days after.****



 

 

This had all been a very confusing day for Phil. He woke up in a much older body than he was accustomed to, and surrounded by a world that had aged twenty years. Clint and the others explained to him what happened, and it’s all a lot to handle.  Apparently everyone knows he and Clint are together, and they live in the tower.  Also, they’ve got a dog. A dog. Named Lucky. What even is Phil’s life?

 

So now, in an extremely surreal moment, the two of them are sitting on a massive couch, dog smushed in between. Clint turns to Phil and asks, “What do you want to watch?”

 

Phil looks around the room for ideas. A well-worn DVD lies beside the TV. He walks over and picks it up. _Inside Out_ it proclaims. The cover depicts multi-colored vaguely humanoid shapes in various states of emotions. Phil cocks in head in slight confusion and reads the description on the back. _Do you ever look at someone and wonder what is going on inside their head?_ Sounds interesting to Phil. He holds it up to Clint, “This one looks good.”

 

This makes Clint smile softly with a hint of sadness on the edges. “Alright, let’s do it.”

 

Phil is slightly confused by this, but doesn’t say anything more. He watches the movie with rapture. It fascinates him; the movie is extremely well-done. The story is poignant and moving. Slight pricks of tears come to his eyes when Bing-Bong sacrifices himself, and when Riley hugs her parents and cries at the end.

 

“I think that’s my new favorite movie.” Phil announced once the credits started rolling. Clint laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound, more bitter.

 

“What?” Phil asks. “Did I - did I say something wrong, are we not-”

 

“No, Phil.” The smile is still there, but it’s grown increasingly more melancholy. “We watch this movie every day. And you say the same thing.”

 

 

  * ****14 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days before.****



 

 

It was raining.

 

Drops of water dripped down Phil’s hair and into his eyes, but his aim never wavered from the young ma - _boy_ in front of him. Said boy was currently in a crouched position in the mud, ready to flee at any moment despite the many broken ribs Phil knew he was sporting.

 

“Don’t run. My name is Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. We can help you.” He kept his voice deliberately steady and soothing.

 

The boy snorted. “You guys need a better name.”

 

“Don’t I know it.” Phil agreed. The boy shifted on the balls of his feet, preparing to make a break for it.

 

“Don’t run.” Phil repeated. “I’ll shoot you if I have to.”

 

“No you won’t.” He took off, weaving through the abandoned cars with ease. Phil sighed and lined up his shot, careful to make it nonfatal. With a click and a bang, he fired and watched with mild satisfaction as the boy went down with what Phil knew was a clean shot through the thigh, missing all the major muscles and arteries. He jogged over the where the boy was lying and applied pressure to the wound with one hand and raised his comm to his lips with the other.

 

“This is Agent Coulson, requesting a medevac.”

 

Phil looked down at the now unconscious boy, noting how much younger he looked when his face wasn’t creased in worry and fear. He didn’t know it then, but it’d be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and maybe a little something more.

 

 

  * ****8 years, 10 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days after.****



 

 

After Phil woke up but before he opened his eyes, he realized was lying in a hospital bed. One one hand, this shouldn’t have been a surprise. He knew he sustained a serious injury at the hands of Loki. On the other, that serious injury was a mortal wound. He should be dead. However, Phil knew from experience the only way to get the answers he needed was to “wake up” to whoever was nearby, so he proceeded to do just that.

 

Well. This was unexpected. There was a multitude of people surrounding his bed, including Natasha, Thor, Stark, Banner, some other people he didn’t recognize, a couple doctors, and of course, Clint. All of them were now staring at him intensely with a variety of concerned faces. Phil chose to focus on Clint’s - one that read hopeful but trying not to get his hopes up. _I already woke up from a stab through the heart_ , Phil thought. _What more could they be waiting for?_

  
He got his answer when Clint asked carefully, “Phil, hey. Quick question: what do you remember from yesterday?” and Phil responded. “Nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so to explain the ending a little bit, Tony and Bruce and the other doctors have come up with what they think is a solution to Phil's problem. They administer it to him the day before we see in the fic. They'll know it worked if he remembers the previous day. Because I'm a horrible and sadistic person, he doesn't...
> 
> Also, I unintentionally stole a line ("your long-term memory....looks like someone drove a truck through it.) from "The Whole World Is Moving (And I'm Standing Still) by theladyingrey42, an amazing fic that you all should read. Thanks for the catch by Xogoi_Momo!
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys! I appreciate all forms of critiquing, and I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
